


...for a lamp?

by WitchyLeos



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Crack, Gen, Joey is a clueless idiot, and a drama queen, henry is mad.com, unadulterated rage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 22:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14903594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchyLeos/pseuds/WitchyLeos
Summary: Joey didn't want Henry to see the Ink Machine, but actually, a really cool lamp.





	...for a lamp?

**Author's Note:**

> based on [this](http://adobe-outdesign.tumblr.com/post/174450826602/what-if-chapter-5-ends-with-henry-opening-a-door) post & [this](https://bombarisen.tumblr.com/post/173167719962/an-entire-studio-filled-with-ink-monsters-that) post.

Life had not been kind to Henry in the time he had been down here. How long had it been, exactly? It couldn't have been longer than a few days, but who really knows when stuck inside an abandoned animation studio fighting inky monstrosities that one's former boss and best friend conjured up through demonic rituals. Henry didn't have the luxury of worrying about time when his life was on the line. Sure, Joey had always been a little _eccentric_. An example being that one time he tried selling tomatoes on the side of the road instead of lemonade. Henry believed that was the epitome of his weirdness; innocent and unorthodox. 

Guess not.

The nightmare of Bendy the studio had turned him into was currently chasing behind him, dragging its inky body towards Henry with one hand outstretched. Henry wasn't as young nor was he as nimble as he once was thirty years ago, narrowly escaping with his life into another spacious room dripping with ink. Breathless, Henry lay down on the floor of the room, staring up at the ceiling as it slowly dribbled ink from its cracks. Perhaps, he was safe. Perhaps, he could just go to sleep right here, wake up, and everything would be fine in the morning. It was wishful thinking. Henry had always been an optimist, though. Even if everything wasn't okay in the morning, he would find a way to escape this prison of nightmares.

"Henry?" asked a familiar voice. "Henry, what're ya doin' on the floor?"

Henry's eyes snapped open. No, he was dreaming. He must be, right? This can't be real. Everyone else had been lost to the studios ink, so why hadn't he? Surely, he wouldn't have been spared, unless he made a deal with the devil roaming the halls. 

"You're  _kidding_ ," Henry breathed. Peeling his sweaty body off of the ground, Henry came face to face with Joey Drew. His old best friend, work partner, co - founder, and boss. He was still situated in his wheelchair, cane resting against his good leg. His hair had grown silver with age, but he still looked like the same Joey Drew who Henry had been friends with all that time ago. In his hands was... a lamp.

"Henry, you made it!" Joey exclaimed, grinning. Confused, Henry raised one eyebrow.

"Uh, yeah."

"You got my letter, then. Here, this is what I wanted to show you," Joey stated, settling the lamp in his lap. Wheeling over to Henry, he picked the lamp up once again. It looked over one hundred years old. It was a pretty lamp, Henry had to admit. The kind of lamp one would find settling as a mantelpiece atop a burning fireplace inside a Victorian mansion. Shaking himself out of his reverie, Henry brought himself back to reality ( or, at least, what could be considered reality ), becoming increasingly confused about the significance of the lamp. It soon became clear to Henry when Joey lifted the lamp in his hands as if it was the greatest thing since sliced bread.

"Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, Henry?" Joey asked.

Now, an important thing to note about Henry: he is a calm, reasonable man. He is soft - spoken, hardly ever raises his voice, and always tries to look on the bright side of things. To really anger Henry, one would have to know the right buttons to push. Right now, Joey Drew - selfish, clueless, idiotic Joey Drew - was pushing all of them. Rage bloomed inside Henry, boiling to the point where if he didn't release it somehow, he would become apoplectic. 

Snatching the lamp from Joey's hands, Henry flung the offensive piece of furniture down to the ground where it smashed into tiny pieces. Joey's eyes widened, his hands still hovering above his lap as if he were still holding something.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" Henry screeched at the top of his voice. He was surprised his lungs didn't burst forth from his chest and slap Joey in the face. "You brought me all the way down here...  _for a lamp_ _?_ "

"Um," Joey began, still getting over the initial shock of seeing Henry so enraged. That lamp cost him more than his medical bills. Yet, perhaps, that wasn't the best thing to bring up right now. Henry's nostrils flared as he waited for an answer from Joey. Seeing that he wasn't going to get one, Henry flew into yet another rage.

"Do you have  _any idea_ what I have been through? I have been chased down by a freakin' Bendy nightmare, forced to do Alice Angel's bidding, and  _then_ she stole my Boris and made him into a monster, and what have you been doing, hm? Sitting in here and waiting for me to fix your mess? Is this why you invited me back? To see what the studio had become in my absence?"

"Well..."

"You know, Joey, if you didn't want me to leave, you could have just  _asked_."


End file.
